What About Mrs Swann?
by brooke-ella1990
Summary: Have you ever wondered what happened to Elizabeth's mother? Her life before Port Royal? Here's my view. Read & Review!


Prequel to Pirates of The Caribbean: The Curse of The Black Pearl and Dead Man's Chest.

Disclaimer: I don't own Pirates, wish I did. But don't. You know the drill, I don't own what you are already familiar with (Elizabeth, Weatherby) I do own Marie, though.

A/N: ok, usually I can't stand author's notes, but I wouldn't ever do a fanfiction involving Jack Sparrow, (I have tried, but they just aren't funny enough.) Enjoy! and review!

Elizabeth Swann slipped on her dress, and a maid helped her zip it up. She was twelve years old today. It was her birthday and she was excited. That meant a cake and some presents. Her hair was arranged in a fancy updo, it mimicked the fancy ladies of the court.

Her feet were pinched into heels. She was in pain, but she kind of liked the way the heels made her look. Older and somehow more sophisticated, even though they were mostly covered by her dress.

Elizabeth's fancily dressed mother, Marie Swann escorted her daughter to the party. Marie was heavily rouged and her teeth gleamed white, she kept a smile to her face the whole time. Marie Swann lived for parties and functions of life in a monarch's court.

This was Elizabeth's first party in the court, before now she had been sent to bed early and listened to the strains of musical instruments from her room. There was a small part of her that looked forward to being able to attend these parties, but another part; a larger, stronger part wanted a freedom. To be able to walk in the fields, to walk in the city without an escort or a servant, to sail on the seas. Not to wear dresses, but to perhaps wear trousers like a man. She accidentally admitted this to her friend and maid, Nancy.

Nancy was eighteen, orphaned, unmarried, and didn't think she would ever marry. She had no choice but to be a maid in a upper class household. Nancy and Elizabeth became fast friends, despite the six-year difference between them.

Elizabeth stepped into the party, clinging to her mother's arm. Marie wore her daughter's arm as though she was a priceless jewel.

Marie had charisma, a natural charming and beautiful personality that simply attracted people to her. It was an odd relationship between Marie and Elizabeth's father Weatherby Swann. He did a very important job for the king that was all Elizabeth really knew. Her father doted on her, buying her pretty new dresses, shoes, the best of everything. Elizabeth had never seen him without his powdered wig on.

She thought upon this. Because she had nothing else to think about. After Marie had introduced her daughter to everyone important, they had sat down at a large round table filled with over-rouged women with their corsets and dresses squeezed so tight, their breasts looked ready to pop out. These were the gossips. They whispered viciously about women who were jilted by their husbands for their lovers, women who were dressed like whores, of course, every little detail was picked upon and Elizabeth was bored out of her mind.

She tapped her fork on the plate in a very unladylike manner, and received a look from Marie.

Elizabeth had been sitting at the table watching these ladies gossip and have a merry time as they consumed more and more wine.

Finally, Nancy arrived on orders of Weatherby Swann, who was not attending the party that she was to find Elizabeth and send her to bed.

Normally, Elizabeth hated being told what to do, but this was one of those times where she felt so desperate to leave. She would have slept in her gown, before staying one more minute with these women.

Nancy unzipped the dress, and Elizabeth slipped into her nightgown and allowed Nancy to pull up her covers. The bed was warm, fresh with warming pans; Elizabeth slipped her feet to above the bed warmer. She quickly fell asleep, the violins of the band slipped strains of beautiful notes to her room.

Elizabeth awoke to utter silence in her house. She put on a robe and slippers and walked into the dining room. To her surprise presents were stacked high and wrapped in expensive shiny paper.

Marie popped up from behind the pile, sipping some coffee daintily from a porcelain cup. Yet somehow she managed not to spill any of the coffee on herself.

Elizabeth unwrapped several gold necklaces, expensive silvers, and exquisite gemstones. She also received a dress of velvet it had a squared neckline. Another had a plunging neckline in a triangular shape; it was more flattering than the other dresses she was accustomed to. Marie said. Elizabeth gave a small glare, but was immediately absorbed into the fabric it was smooth, a bit lacey, a bit satin and yet a bit linen. Also petticoats.

It was a good birthday.

The next day she began etiquette school. Over the course of two months, Elizabeth learned how to use every single fork, knife and spoon she may be presented with. Which glasses went with which wine. How to fold napkins and many other tasks, and how to plan the proper party, Elizabeth was bored out of her mind the whole time. And yet she glommed every piece of knowledge.

Where were the important things? Reading, writing, arithmetic, logic. She asked Marie who was floating around the house one day with a goblet of red wine in her hand. Marie coughed a little, and then started laughing.

"A woman's place is not to be educated, to be serving the man." Marie said. Elizabeth couldn't believe the words her mother was spewing. Marie was a free spirit, or at least she was. Now she was a broken spirit, claiming what men considered what right. Elizabeth huffed away unsatisfied with the way the world worked.

Elizabeth kept her silence to her mother, Marie noticed, but pretended not to. She knew Elizabeth would succumb to the silence and speak to her. But it had been a solid two weeks.

Elizabeth did not know, but Marie was falling ill, she had been to the best doctors, they said she was incurable. Marie Swann was dying slowly, and painfully. She would wake up, coughing up blood.

The only way she felt painless was to drink. She kept a constant companion of flask filled with whiskey, tucked under the wraparound waist.

Elizabeth was learning to turn up her hair, Marie noticed. Nancy, the maid, was helping. Marie would occasionally peek into her daughter's room and find the two of them laughing and Nancy twisting rag curls into Elizabeth's hair. She would watch long enough sometimes that she would see Elizabeth pull the strips of cloth from her hair and admire the bounce.

There was also mostly the pinning up. Elizabeth would have perfect hair in public, but she would remove pins and walk around the house with a lopsided style. But mostly she let her hair hang long.

It broke Marie's heart to have such a silence in the house. Her husband, Weatherby was hardly ever home, important duties he had. But he had a way with his daughter. He simply doted upon her, and could persuade her to do nearly anything. But with Elizabeth's approaching adolescence, Marie had a feeling this would change.

When Marie was a young girl, she never imagined she would marry rich, governor's son Weatherby Swann. Dull as dishwater, bland appearance, an incomparable work ethic and a drive to succeed. Weatherby would have rather been inside eavesdropping on a Parliament meeting, while Marie would have been running around town causing general chaos. Running away to the fields to dance around freely. Her father was also in Parliament. Marie's father held the position, Weatherby held today. At sixteen it was clear she was a free spirit, not willing to be broken, for a marriage. But somehow she was. She found herself broken spirited and walking down the church aisle to marry the dullest boy she had ever known.

Marie was certain that this would be a loveless marriage, for her affections belonged to a sailor, who she learned right before her marriage, died at sea. But slowly as though in a fairy-tale, Weatherby held her confidences, became her best friend, and then they were in love. That was when Marie was to carry her only child. Elizabeth Swann. Free, loving, trusting, a bit deceitful, willful and everything an ideal woman for their time wasn't.

When Marie pictured her daughter in the future she would see Elizabeth married to some stuffy old man, to suffer the same way she had. Watching her life pour slowly away. At this thought, Marie dug her flask from her wrap and took a long drink.

Elizabeth felt today that something good was going to happen. She had arisen from bed this morning, and she just had one of those feelings where she knew everything was going to go right. She was twelve years old she thought she knew things. But she didn't.

Nancy was conspicuously missing, this morning so Elizabeth had to struggle with her dress. Finally pulling it up so that she could travel with her mother to the market. Something not necessary but something the both of them enjoyed. Seeing people make a living, the different types that roamed there.

They walked in almost total silence, with a servant of the household escorting them around.

Elizabeth and her mother traveled to the butcher's where they saw a pig, and various slabs of fresh meat.

Elizabeth saw Nancy shamelessly flirting with the butcher's son.

"Is this meat fresh?" she asked. Elizabeth thought that was a dumb way to do things, but whatever.

Marie however did not see the help flirting about; she was pulling back a drink on the flask.

Elizabeth watched her mother in odd fascination. She broke her silence to ask if Marie was hungry and if she wanted something to eat.

"No, honey, I'm not" Marie said weakly. She had just gotten very tired and weak, she had to lie down, but first they had to make it back to the house.

That's when she fainted.

"MOTHER!" Elizabeth shrieked who was in a heap on the ground. She threw herself on the ground, to find her mother breathing shallowly. "NANCY!" Elizabeth shrieked to the maid, who came running with the butcher boy.

"Oh my. What happened to the missus?" Nancy asked.

"I DON'T KNOW!" Elizabeth wailed, close to tears.

Nancy put a hand on Marie's forehead and felt a fever burning. Nancy had known about Marie's illness, but was ordered to keep it quiet from Elizabeth.

Nancy ordered the butcher boy, who Elizabeth learned was John Salem, to carry Marie back to the house. Elizabeth was to go with them and Nancy would bring the doctor.

This was not a good day, Elizabeth thought to herself as she directed John to her parents room.

Weatherby was called from the meeting he was in, to see Marie. Weatherby had known about Marie's consumption and how it was too late to fix, that she was already dying. He had felt the private hugs where her hips and ribs protruded oddly from her nightgown. He had witnessed the frantic night terrors, when Marie woke up in a cold sweat and coughing up blood.

He had known about this for a while. It killed him to see Marie slowly withering away. Which was why he kept impossible hours for work.

Elizabeth, he felt sad for, she probably didn't even notice a change in her mother. He watched Elizabeth not speak to her mother for five days. He wished she would swallow her pride. It was after all some silly belief that Marie had told her that silenced the mother and daughter toward eachother.

Elizabeth watched terrified as the doctor examined Marie. He came out to Weatherby and Elizabeth standing in the hall.

"She is dying of the consumption" he told the anxious pair. Weatherby looked toward his daughter. Elizabeth, as he predicted, screamed and tried to enter her mother's room.

"Don't." the doctor said. "She is very weak, and most likely will not survive the night." He continued.

He left Weatherby with some herbal tea, calming for Elizabeth.

Weatherby allowed Elizabeth to speak with her mother.

"Mama, how could you do this?" Elizabeth moaned. "Not tell me? Leave me alone?" Tears dripped down her face, as Marie opened her eyes slowly they were dull and lackluster.

"Darling. I love you, with every breath." Marie said.

Weatherby came in.

"Weatherby, you stuffy man, I love you." Marie said, her chest moving slowly, and slower still, until a final whoosh of air escaped her and the life was gone from her.

Elizabeth clung to her father and cried.

They had the funeral for Marie three days later. She was buried in the church graveyard, Weatherby commissioned a tombstone to be erected for his wife.

Elizabeth felt her interest in etiquette school wane even further. Then finally she stopped going.

Nancy was sympathetic and told Elizabeth some Pirate lore from the Caribbean. She was friends with some merchant sailors and when they were in port they amused her with various pirate tales.

Nancy knew this would somehow almost distract Elizabeth from her grief. Elizabeth had almost too keen an interest in this lore. Nancy taught her a song, she had once heard. "Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me."

Three days later, two very important things happened.

Nancy was proposed to by John Salem, the butcher's son. Nancy was getting married. Elizabeth was overjoyed for her friend. But couldn't help feel sad that Nancy would no longer be in her father's employ, that they wouldn't be as good of friends as they were now. They were getting married by a reverend in a private ceremony in a week.

Number two was that Weatherby was to be the new governer of Port Royal, Jamaica.

The king assembled a pack of sailors and arranged a fine ship to transport Weatherby, Elizabeth and other important men to Port Royal.

Elizabeth stepped onto the ship and had her own cabin. After all she was a woman. She had fixed her hair. And worn a new dress for the occasion. Although she would have rather worn an old, comfortable dress, but nope here she was decked out in linen and lace, and flats.

The captain yelled out orders, and the ship lurched forward. They were in open ocean, now, Elizabeth was managing quite well, but Weatherby was suffering mild seasickness. Elizabeth had a mild laugh at Weatherby but carefully disguised it in a gagging cough.

She went to the bow of the ship and leaned on the railing. This was the start of something new. The rest of her life was represented by that open ocean, unwritten open, and vast. She couldn't wait to start. But first she couldn't help humming to herself "Yo-Ho Yo Ho, a pirate's life for me."


End file.
